9849- Ka'rta
by anonymous skrub
Summary: (Under rewrite) Something I felt like doing after seeing how actually cringy the RC books actually are, and how much better than could've been. Karen Travis is still a great author, but I like rewriting this. Fem!OC-RC/Etain. (Sorry, Dar.)
1. Mutation

**Planet Kamino**

 **20 years before Battle of Geonosis**

 **Jango Fett's Chambers**

"Mr. Fett," Taun We began, "we have encountered a slight problem with a prototype of your clones… Follow me, if you'd please?" Jango looked up from cleaning his armor, and grunted, before standing up. Taun We led him through a maze of corridors and hallways before stopping at an improvised nursery. She gestured for him to enter.

Jango opened the door, and stepped inside. A lone Kaminoan was standing above a single cradle, seemingly in shock. He didn't care about the aiwhya-baits' names; they just paid him well.

He looked down, and did a double take. This was not a normal clone. The clone had the same dark hair, brown eyes, and tan Jango had- virtually everything a clone should be, except for one thing:

Jango was a human male, and had a penis. This baby did not; it was a girl. He stared in shock for a few minutes, before the damned long-necked fish bait interrupted him. He asked, "We were about to terminate it. Do you wish to observe?" The sheer emotionless tone was range-inducing.

He scooped the girl up, and gave a single word answer: "No." He left, and said simply, "She's mine."

At his chambers, he grabbed a few blankets and wrapped her up. She giggled and grabbed at his hands. He grinned a little, tickling her. He stopped at stared at her, head cocked slightly. She mimicked him perfectly, wide brown eyes staring back.

"I think I'll name you… Ka'rta."

 **SKIP 7 YEARS**

Ka'rta waited for the perfect moment. All she had to do was wait… NOW!

She jumped from her hiding spot on top of a cliff, and landed on the lumpy head of a rancor. The beast thrashed about, grabbing at her. She nimbly dodged, the armor she was wearing proving no resistance to her movements. She shot the left claw with a flame thrower, following with an electrical shock dart into the open wound.

The rancor screamed again, and stopped clawing momentarily. That was all she needed.

She leaned down, and grabbing thermal detonators off her belt, armed and threw them down the beast's throat, ejecting her gauntlet mounted beskar blades into the eyes of the great animal. It roared- well, gurgled- before she slid down the back, and propelled herself off the lower back, boosting herself with the jetpack on her back.

She landed on a knee, before glancing over at the choking rancor. Its guts suddenly exploded, and a stream of blood painted her mask red. She grinned- another target killed, another poem to write. Father will be proud.

 **SKIP 5 YEARS**

Ka'rta stripped off her black and red armor, which was highlighted with fashionably placed orange markings. Hey, she was a girl- she did girly things like clothes shopping once in a while. It's not like Kamino was a convenience center or anything.

Soon, all that was left was a black body suit, which she covered with a dark red jacket, black old military-styled cargo pants, dark brown rancor hide boots, and Krayt dragon leather gloves. Very smuggler-like outfit; she loved it... but Jango, not so much. **(Kinda imagine the Scoundrel starter clothes from KOTOR with black cargo pants.)**

She slipped on her pistol holster on her right thigh, and slid the refurbished D-416 Rampage Disruptor pistol her father got her, the repainted black body gleaming. She slipped in a power pack, leaving the safety on.

After navigating the hallways, she arrived next to her father, and copied his position, arms crossed, looking down below. Clones- all male, to her annoyance- ran about, shot at ranges, or did drills with their screaming instructors. She looked farther right and saw good ole Kal Skirata running his commando trainees through a few courses, slipping them uj cake when they finished. She smiled at that- good ole Kal'buir.

Jango looked at her, and gave her a look she could not place. She figured it was time for "that", though. Reading her mind, he nodded, handing her a red uniform, a knife, and a new DC-17S pistol.

She took one last look at her precious Rampage Disruptor. A few minutes later, she came back. Despite her slightly curvy figure, her now-crew cut hair and matching uniform were the exact same as her clone brothers. She worked on her voice manipulation for years now- she was sure it would be fine.

She paused in front of the door; she ran back suddenly, wrapping her arms around her father. "Goodbye, for now, Jan'buir," she mumbled into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her as well, sighing. "I'll be watching you, Ka'ika," he whispered into her hair, "promise."

They separated, and she gave him a watery smile. "Well," she hiccuped, twirling the new pistol, "time to show them what big sister's got."


	2. High Altitude, Not Really an Opening

Qiilura

3 months after the battle of Geonosis

GAR SOB DROPSHIP CHARLIE-TWO-FIFE-AUREK

OBJECTIVE: [CLASSIFIED]

CARGO: RC-9849 & ADDITIONAL SUPPLIES FOR OMEGA SQUAD

STATUS: DEPLOYING CARGO

At a barely safe height of 1000 meters, Ka'rta was hooking gear together in preparation for a cargo drop. Darman was responsible for the ordnance, so she had the lesser gear: extra rations, Deecee ammo, armor repair kits, weapon maintenance tools; not the most glorious job.

Her HUD flashed that she had thirty seconds to drop. Shuffling her way to the door, she threw it open in time to see a bird-like creature fly straight into the engine. She barely grabbed the handlebar in time to avoid being thrown out of the crop duster.

"FIERFEK!" she swore, hauling herself back in. She looked at the gear, prioritizing it in her mind. Eventually, she decided on rations and spare armor plating before shoving out, reading the altimeter in her HUD: _400 meters_.

 _This is gonna hurt_ , she thought, as she hurtled herself out into the night.

UNKNOWN PROPERTY

TRACKING: COMMANDER ETAIN TUR-MAKAN

JEDI PADAWAN

Etain stumbled through the crop fields, glancing behind her fearfully. As she trampled down more stalks of barq, the drunk Weequay behind her called out again.

"Giiiiiiirlieeeeeee," he slurred, "where you?"

Swallowing the fear in her throat, she finally decided to throw herself down on a pile of feces that littered the field as fertilizer, when she ran into something hard. As she fell back, she glanced a fearsome T-shaped visor, and she actually _whimpered_. Ghez Hokan, here, in fro-

Wait a minute. Since when was Ghez Hokan, a renown **large and intimidating** Mandalorian warrior, become so… small? She furrowed her brow, even as she reached for her lightsaber, before a gauntleted hand grasped her wrist, and in the dim moonlight, she saw the figure lift a finger to where their mouth would be. _Be quiet._

As the drunk Weequay got even closer, a quiet _shhnk_ pierced the air, and a sharp vibroblade emerged from the gauntlet of the stranger. At first, Etain thought she was going to die; however, she realized that the person was making to jump up and had her muscles tensed. A startling realization overcame her:

 _She's trying to save me._

As a boot made to come through the stalks, a harsh voice roared, "GUTA-NAY! WHERE ARE YOU, YOU FILTHY SWINE?!"

A whimper, followed by a hasty retreat, gave evidence that the Weequay had abandoned pursuit in fear. A sharp crack echoed, and a shrill scream of pain, before Etain heard a speeder take off.

As soon as that happened, the person eased off Etain. She backpedaled, whipping out a glowing green blade.

"Who are you?" she demanded. In the light of her lightsaber, she made out armor painted in a dull grey-ish white, only stopped by a bright blue visor. As the figure took off the helmet, it revealed a woman about as young as Etain's meager 15 years.

"Republic Commando designation number niner-eight-four-niner, Commander," she responded, nodding towards her. She had shorter hair, though Etain suspected that wearing a helmet with long hair probably wasn't ideal. Still, something seemed off…

"Excuse me," Etain started, raising a hand in front of her, "did you just say _Republic Commando_? When did the Republic start fielding _commandos_?" The effectively child soldier furrowed her brow, jutting her lower lip out, looking quite distractedly cute if-

 _No, Etain_ , she thought to herself, _bad thoughts, remember the Code_.

"About three standard months ago, ma'am," the girl only identified as RC-9849 replied. "Forgot you've been out of contact almost a year. Apologies," she finished lamely, flushing a bit in embarrassment.

Etain nodded, equally lame, before testing unknown waters. "Do you, um, have a, erm, name?" she asked, squeaking a bit at the end. 9849 looked amused, far more than a soldier should, before becoming completely still. In a flash, she had her helmet back on and held a short blaster carbine in both hands, scanning the barq stalks in front of the pair.

She motioned for Etain to back up, seemingly seeing something the padawan couldn't. Etain did so, but not before a very disgruntled-looking farmer smacked right into the commando, dressed is full battle regalia. Upon seeing the visor, he paled, repeating, "Oh no, oh no, oh n-" before a vicious armored elbow conked him in the side of the head, knocking him out- straight into a pile of feces. Etain cringed internally.

"We've gotta move, now," RC-9849 whispered, her voice seeming more masculine through the vocabulator. "Need to RV with the rest of my squad, ma'am. C'mon!" she said, grabbing Etain's hand to pull her along, carrying her blaster in one hand like a large pistol.

"There's more of you?" she gasped out, her already burning lungs put under pressure once more. 9849 nodded, dashing into the undergrowth, following what seemed to be an animal trail. "Four more, my brothers- Darman, Fi, Atin, and our leader, Niner," she stated, slowing down some after about a thirty minute sprint.

Etain stopped, leaning against a tree to support her own weight. A soft hand touched her face, as a bright light tried to seemingly burn out her eyes. It stopped after a few moments of squinting, but the hand remained. Unconsciously, Etain placed her own over it.

9849 was looking at her, upper body armor off and stacked neatly to the side, revealing a fit figure in a skin tight bodysuit that was most certainly not doing Etain's raging teenage hormones any favors. She gulped hard, staring at dark brown eyes looking back into her green orbs.

"My name is Ka'rta," she whispered, hot breath ghosting over Etain's lips, pulling a shiver out of her. "W-What does it mean?" Etain stammered, trying to not think of the full dark red/brown lips in front of her, the soft hand seemingly inching her closer to the soldier's face, the way that bodysuit hugged her in all the ri-

"Jewel," Ka'rta said, eyes getting slightly misty. She smiled sadly, reminiscing. "My father said I was the jewel of his life," she sighed, stroking Etain's cheek with her thumb. But this confused the young Jedi- a fully trained commando as young as her, serving in the same unit as _four_ of her brothers? Something didn't add up here.

"Who is your father?" she asked softly, daring to raise her own hand, feeling a soft, warm cheek under her palm. "Was," Ka'rta sadly corrected. "And his name was Jango Fett. My father, as well the father of my brothers." Etain asked the question she needed to confirm her theory: "How many brothers do you have, Ka'rta?"

She looked her dead in the eye. "Millions," she replied. "I'm a clone. Welcome to the Clone Wars, Commander Tur-Makan," she whispered, her mouth right next to Etain's ear. "And we have company." On that note, a blaster shot sailed past their head, and all hell broke loose.

Ka'rta wrapped her arms around Etain, and fell backwards, proceeding to roll them over and behind a small mound of dirt and rocks. Etain went for her lightsaber, but a suddenly gauntlet covered hand stopped her. "We can't risk it if they have a radio and see a lightsaber," Ka'rta shouted, her helmet somewhere behind them. She unholstered a pistol and pressed it into her hands.

"This is a DC-17S pistol! See this bar here?" she gestured, and Etain nodded. "It has infinite rounds, but can be overheated! Once the bar gets filled all the way, you need to let it cool down before shooting again!" She proceeded to prop her own carbine on a piece of the mound, and opened up, seeming to kill at least one of the hostiles.

"Any time, Commander!" she shouted, ducking as a volley of red and green lasers flew by her head. Etain swallowed a wholly different lump in her throat, and said a silent penance for what she was about to do.

She shot up, raising the pistol to an optimum firing position, and took aim at a Rodian leaning out from a tree. She squeezed the trigger- _crack! crack! crack!_ \- and green blood spurted from the holes left in his chest.

Ka'rta had slipped something on her blaster, and with a bright flash and sudden _**WHUMP!**_ a grenade flew through the air, and blew up the poorly covered speeder- which contained the radioman.

As the two ducked back into cover, Ka'rta grinned, slipping off her anti-armor attachment. "Alright," she giggled, placing her helmet she'd managed to retrieve, "now you can use your glowstick."

Etain grinned now, too. With a _snap-hiss!_ the green blade sprang to life, causing a lull in the fire. Ka'rta stood beside her, carbine raised. She turned her helmet speakers up, and shouted, " **IN THE NAME OF THE REPUBLIC AND THE JEDI ORDER, WE ORDER YOU TO SURRENDER!** "

Several of the mercenaries glanced fearfully at the Jedi and what seemed to be Mandalorian, and quickly threw down their weapons. Ka'rta grasped her pistol back from Etain, and slipped it back into its holster.

Another mercenary screamed something in Huttesse, and started to apply pressure on the trigger of his rifle. Within a blink of the eye, his chest was seared with plasma and his limp body crumpled down on the ground. A smoking barrel from a DC-17M scanned the rest of the POWs, daring them to make a move.

Several minutes later, they were all zip tied and had been lined up. Ka'rta walked the length of them, while Etain leaned in front of a human male.

"Who is the ranking officer here?" she inquired.

He glanced fearfully at her, before looking down. "I-I am," he whimpered. Ka'rta moved from behind her, and Etain watched her curiously. In a flash, like a literal flash, bodies of the other mercenaries fell dead with smoking holes in their heads.

Etain's eyes widened. "WHAT THE STANG WAS THAT FOR!?" she cried out, horrified by what she had just seen. Ka'rta tilted her head, responding, "They were of no use to us, ma'am."

Etain felt bile rise up, and she ran to the trees to vomit. She sensed rather than heard or saw the cool and calm manner with which Ka'rta beat the prisoner to get information out of him. The cries of pain and screaming shook her. She turned back after several minutes of dry heaving to see her entering something in a datapad and tapping her helmet a few times.

"Omega Squad thanks you for your assistance, sergeant," she said quietly. The man looked terrible- his nose was broken, had multiple teeth missing, and bruises were beginning to form- and that was just the visible areas. He glanced at her pistol, and pleaded, " _Please_."

Ka'rta glanced at her sidearm, seemingly in thought. Soon, he too fell to the ground with a steaming hole in his head. Wiping the blood off her armor, Ka'rta casually glanced up.

"What?" she asked, and what got Etain was how innocent she made it sound.

"Y-Y-Y…" Etain stuttered, gesturing to the bodies. "YOU JUST _MURDERED_ A HALF A DOZEN MEN!" she screamed, letting her emotions loose, Code be damned.

Standing stock still, she robotically answered, "They were a security risk." Etain glared at her, about to go off again, when Ka'rta took off her helmet, revealing teary eyes.

"I'm jealous," she whispered, "that you can actually tell the difference." Etain stared at her, and gulped. Continuing, Ka'rta said, "I've only known war, and death, and how to balance bodies and lives like numbers in a fracking math equation." She breathed harshly through her mouth, looking at Etain. "I wish I couldn't," she said, resealing her helmet and turning to walk away.

"RZ Beta is still forty klicks out," she called back, grabbing her pack. "If we hurry, we can make it by sunset tomorrow."

Etain couldn't move, couldn't speak, and could barely live with herself. Her Order had created this innocent looking weapon of war? This girl who had just had her questioning her Code, and making jokes in a fight?

For the first time, Etain doubted the wisdom of her Masters.

For the first time, Etain wished the Jedi never found her.

For the first time and far from the last, she vowed she would make sure Ka'rta, and all her brothers, actually feel like people, not weapons.


	3. A Jedi Finally Wears Armor

**Qiilura**

 **3 months after the battle of Geonosis**

 **Tracking: CPL RC-9849 "KA'RTA" & CMDR TUR-MAKAN**

 **Status: UNABLE TO DISCERN DUE TO SEPARATIST JAMMER LOCATED PLANETSIDE. ADVISE WAITING ONE STANDARD WEEK MORE BEFORE DEPLOYING SOB "NULL" TEAM.**

Etain splashed water on her face, wiping off some the grime and dirt that had gotten on her in the running through the night. Obviously, she was weaker than she thought, or Ka'rta was a lot stronger than she thought, because she awoke to being piggybacked and rushing through trees.

She splashed more cold water on herself to distract that train of thought. Turning, she saw Ka'rta watching the Qiiluran "fireflies" buzz about, creating a shining spectrum of flashing colors. She smiled slightly, and laughed softly as one bopped her nose. She glanced over at Etain and winked, making sure she saw her eyes drop down.

Etain finally remembered she was virtually topless and giving her a show, so she scrambled to throw on her old robes and fasten them tightly, shivering slightly. It was autumn and winter was approaching, so some thin Jedi robes weren't the warmest clothing choice.

Suddenly, a black compressor shirt materialized by her head, and she turned to see Ka'rta in nothing more than an _extremely revealing_ black bodysuit and her boots and leg armor.

"Figured you could use this more than me," she shrugged, as Etain softly grabbed it. "I have insulated armor," she grinned. Etain snorted, pulling the slightly oversized shirt over her head.

"At least you have armor," Etain mumbled, moving to get her robes again. Ka'rta grabbed her wrist, and pulled her up.

"Actuallyyyyy…" she said in a singsong voice, gesturing to something behind her, "not anymore."

Taking a glance over the other girl's shoulder, Etain's eyes widened as she saw the light armor plating fashioned into a full chestpiece.

"Had to shave off a few edges and whatnot, but this should fit under your robes and over the shirt. Rated M for Mando-grade," she continued, grinning. Holding it up, she held out her hand.

"Lightsaber, please?" she asked, mumbling a quick "thank you" under her breath. Ka'rta then ignited the blade and slashed the armor, and Etain damn near had a heart attack. However, the breastplate was entirely undamaged save a burn mark from where the blade touched it.

"How..?" Etain asked, staring at it in wonder. Ka'rta grinned, again, (and by the damned Force, it was unfairly attractive) and repeated, "Rated M for Mando-grade." At Etain's still confused face, she sighed, taking a bored tone, "Mandalorian iron, known as beskar, it strong enough to resist a lightsaber and anything short of a turbolaser."

Etain had no other way to express her shock. "Holy fucking shit," she breathed, then realized what she said. Blushing head to toe, she slapped her hands over her mouth and squeaked, as Ka'rta actually _keeled over laughing_.

Blushing furiously, Etain smacked her repeatedly, when suddenly Ka'rta tensed and grabbed her wrist. Holding a finger to her lips, she quickly slid on her armor and grabbed her rifle. Backing up, she motioned for Etain to do so as well.

Hiding behind a couple of downed trees, Etain quietly fastened her new armor to herself as Ka'rta continued scanning the treeline.

Suddenly, a figure wearing near identical armor to Ka'rta burst through and dragged several heavy weapons behind it. Tearing off their helmet, the soldier revealed himself as a 20-something year old human male, and gasped for breath, hurriedly drinking water straight from the creek. Dried blood caked his left leg plates, and he was obviously shifting weight over on his right.

"We're good," Ka'rta whispered, and stood up. "Oi, _ner vod_!" she called, watching as Darman snapped his head at her before grinning.

Ka'rta tore off her helmet as well, and clasped her brother's forearm as he did hers. "How are you on this fine day, Darman?" Ka'rta asked, grinning cheekily.

"I need caf and uj cake," he gasped, falling straight down on his ass. Looking behind his sister, he straightened up and saluted.

"Commander," he grunted. Etain looked at Ka'rta, who mouthed, _salute back_. She did so, sloppily, and Darman returned to the position of attention.

"Um…" Etain mumbled, as Ka'rta slung an arm around Darman. "Etain, this is one of my baby brothers, and squadmates, RC-1136- we call him Darman," she said casually, while Darman raised an eyebrow.

"Baby brother?" Etain asked incredulously, "He looks older than you!"

Turning to Darman, Etain asked, "Darman, um, how old are, uh, you?"

Replying strongly yet quietly, he responded:

"I'm 10 years old, ma'am."


End file.
